


Little Absurdities

by ParadifeLoft



Series: Giftmas 2013 [7]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, I mean I guess if you've got foresight, Politics, and are measuring against that one time you tried to have a festival and the Trees got eaten..., everyone come to Valimar to celebrate festivals they said, it'll be fun they said
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadifeLoft/pseuds/ParadifeLoft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Curufin bored at a party in Valimar wanders off in search of his cousin Finrod, and finds yet more tension within the house of Finwe along with his company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Absurdities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hereff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereff/gifts).



> Happy Giftmas, hereff! Apologies for the tardiness here, and I _hope_ this is something like what you had in mind - it ended up being a bit heavier on the kids and the politics than (the direct presence of) the parents, but there's not always a lot of stopping Curvo when he starts steering the story in certain ways...  >.>

The palace was bright, the multitude of conversations was loud, the company was boring, and as Curufinwe hovered to the side of the great hall near a pair of reliefs of Manwe and Varda (were they necessary with the palace so near to their actual dwellings, he wondered) - neither Turco nor Findaráto were anywhere to be seen.

Turco, he had an idea where he was, a rather good one; it would not do to go searching for him, and in any case he was better company in places that did _not_ involve so many other people for him to become distracted by. Findaráto, however… he might well be simply hiding somewhere admiring some other Vanyarin statue, or making pointless conversation with his grandmother's family, and could afford to be pulled away from it.

Tugging at the hem of his robe's sash and the gold threads studded with tiny dark carnelians, Curufinwe looped his way through the half-open maze of halls, gardens… The palace here could not be so clearly delineated into defined spaces as could that of his grandfather, or any of the other Ñoldorin villas; and more than once he thought he'd entered a hallway and found several feet in that it was simply a passage  designed for shaping and viewing the Light. And everywhere, he could hear the faint hum of the constantly-chiming bells - they did not stop until the week's festival had concluded, or so his father had told him when he asked.

Finally, he found Findaráto in exactly one of those passages, thoroughly secluded from the main gathering hall where all the lords and ladies of the First and Second kindreds had gathered, along with a large showing of Ainur clad in bodily form - though even here he was not alone, as Turukáno had to be sitting next to him.

But Curufinwe was _bored_ , and had nowhere else better to be.

Dropping the sash-hem, he approached the pair of them, sitting in low conversation; his shoes swished against the marble and gold inlay of the floor and both of his cousins looked up to meet him. "Findaráto, you disappeared," Curufinwe commented. Findaráto's mouth and brows turned up in a small greeting smile, slightly abashed, while Turukáno glanced only from the side of his eyes, face still.

He sat down when he reached them at Findaráto's right, opposite Turukáno. "You said you had some questions about Atar's lessons?"

The question only got a slight frown from his cousin, instead. "I do," he answered, "but I didn't mean right now. I was talking with Turukáno."

Curufinwe cocked his head to the side, as if considering something. "Well I'm sure he would have any questions you do, too," he pronounced, as though it were a matter of fact. _That_ received an angry noise and huff of air from Turukáno, who drew himself up on the bench as if that might better draw his cousin's attention back as well.

"I'm perfectly competent at _all_ my lessons, Curufinwe, even the ones your father sets that are so absurdly beyond any _reasonable_ expectation for other students our age - "

"Turvo," Findaráto said, cutting him off as he looked back at his other cousin, elaborately-tied golden braids swishing at the back edge of his collar with the movement. "It's not an insult. I'd been asking Curufinwe about further information on sound change motivations, not for help with the material."

Turukáno's face was still twisted into a scowl when he voiced his grudging assent; and it was only a moment before he took a long, hard look at Curufinwe. Curufinwe looked back with his own face carved into disdain - though he switched easily enough to blank innocence when Findaráto turned again and caught his eye, knowing. (Well of _course_ it had been an insult, even if Findaráto was clever enough to shave away the bubble of conflict before it hardened.)

"We had been discussing the duties of princes in everyday city life, if you'd like to join our conversation," Findaráto said, a few moments later. He was using his Diplomat Voice.

Curufinwe glanced away and gave a minute twist of his mouth, running a finger up and down the curved inside edge of the whorls and ridges in the wall. He didn't _know_ much about that, not like he did about language, even if they didn't travel as far from Tirion as often as they did when Tyelkormo was a child.

"Well, in any case, I still think it's better not to _encourage_ them," Turukáno said after a period of silence, with the air of one utterly changing a topic on a whim. "Even if your father likes the beadwork, _my_ father's had to talk grandfather out of letting some of his lords commission new icons to put in the palace. I don't know why they're so obsessed with what we used to think was good when we didn't even have any Light or anything the Valar have taught us."

As Findaráto began to speak - "But it doesn't _hurt_ anyone; you see all sorts of icons and non-Valarin art in Alqualonde, and everybody is perfectly fine following their own ideas without telling other people they can't have others" - Curufinwe froze staring at the wall, stomach clenching. His fingers twitched.

He didn't know much about princes' duties besides what his tutors had taught him, but _this_ wasn't even _about_ princes. "Just because _your_ family wouldn't have gotten anywhere if they didn't have the Valar helping them," Curufinwe blurted in a sudden rush, turning back toward his two cousins.

They looked confused for a moment, before Turukáno made an indignant noise and moved as if to stand. Curufinwe, in a similar rush, actually _did_ stand, pushing to his feet and drawing himself up with a haughty expression on his face.

"Nobody asked you! I didn't even _invite_ you into this conversation!" Turukáno cried, as Findaráto got to his feet as well with a strangled "will the pair of you stop fighting!".

"Turukáno? Findaráto?"

Curufinwe startled, whipping his head back over his shoulder even as he skittered back onto the bench, sitting still and tense. It was Uncle Arafinwe who rounded the corner, in his Telerin robes in gold and sky blue, concern knit between his pale brows. "I suspected I would find the pair of you together," he murmured, and then, "ah, hello Curufinwe,". He surveyed the three of them; Curufinwe stiff on the stone bench and Turukáno tense on his own with his scowl still half-retained by his face; Findaráto still standing as though about to dive between a wrestling pair of younger brothers, with slight spots of pink in his cheeks . "Is there a reason I heard shouting?"

The pink flush spread slightly if Curufinwe was not imagining it, and Findaráto said, "No, father, we just got a bit… enthusiastic in our discussion."

If Turukáno was not about to contradict that, Curufinwe was hardly about to either. He stared balefully at his half-cousin behind their other cousin's back, and the look was returned in kind.

Uncle Arafinwe only gave a musing _I see_ that Curufinwe did not quite believe or trust when he glanced up at his face. "Well, in any matter, _you_ , _"_ he continued, addressing Findaráto with a hand on his shoulder, "really should come back down to the main hall to speak with the other lords some more. And Turvo - " he glanced to the side " - I heard your father looking for you as well."

Curufinwe tried very hard not to shift where he sat as Findaráto looked back and Turukáno stood to walk with his cousin (neither of them looking particularly thrilled at the prospect of going back into the party). Finally, when they moved to leave and the his choice needed to be made, he stepped down after them with a swallow of irritated pride, and followed his cousins back into the main hall.

It was still just as loud and uninteresting as when he'd left, Curufinwe discovered - not as if he'd much expected anything different - though if it was any significance, the unhappy twitch of a glance that Turukáno gave Findaráto when they found Uncle Ñolofinwe near-immediately and his brother greeted him with a cheerful _look who I stumbled across_ , that significance was at least a small vindication.

Though gazing out into the shifting mass of colours and voices once Findaráto had left with his father as well, hoping the rest of the festival for the day at least would pass without the need for dull conversation with lords whose names he could barely remember, was a displeasure enough to balance that out. Perhaps even to continue arguing with his half-cousin might have been better.

A mild daze had claimed him when the voice addressing him cut through clear enough to startle. "Curvo? You look rather glum."

He'd barely turned before his own father stood at his side, bright jewels and robes against a tight-spun posture.

"Findaráto and Turukáno needed to go talk with more people," Curufinwe explained. Not that he really _wanted_ Turukáno's _company_ , but Feanáro would understand.

His father raised an eyebrow; gave a slight sardonic smile, tinged with bitterness. "Ah, have my half-brothers decided it is time to play politics again?" He shook his head, and Curufinwe was reminded – pleased, this time – of his earlier conversation with his cousins. Feanáro did not enjoy or care for having to spend all his time at court either.

Curufinwe smiled back, and rolled his fingers against the gems of his clothing. “I found an interesting light room, if you would like me to show you,” he said, straightening. “I don’t think there are any politics there.”


End file.
